


Chocolate Chippers

by reynkout



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol influenced sex, Alternate Universe - Clubbing, Alternate Universe - High School, Assisted Masturbation, Chocolate chip cookie references, Clubbing, Crushes, Drugged!Jean, Drugs, Drunk!Marco, Jacking off, M/M, Mentioned Marco/Annie, POV Jean Kirstein, Plotless Sex, Slight Marco/Sasha, Teenagers, booze, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 21:57:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1663880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reynkout/pseuds/reynkout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean Kirstein's crushing on a cute freckled guy at school, but he's sooo not about to get on his knees and ask this dude to go out with him. No way. Being the stalker he is, Jean knows Freckles has a girlfriend. When Eren invites him to Reiner's big bash at Himmerich, a disco, he's in for some trouble with none other than his crush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate Chippers

**Author's Note:**

> Oh. My. God. This piece was just so difficult to write for me. I tried taking on the challenge of writing in both first person AND present tense. I've tried to be as umgangssprachlich (slang) as I can be, but it's been wearing me out ever since I started writing as Jean. I wanted to tear at my skin because it was so hard to get into Jean's head. I'm not used to writing intimate scenes... It makes me question myself, so I apologize if it's boring.  
> Basically, this thing is just a gush of weird emotions I have about this one kid I see everyday who doesn't know I exist. I chose to bring in the action at the disco I seldom go to. I enjoy partying, too, but I don't go often enough, so I just relive them in my mind. Once again, like Not So Lean Jean, it's set in modern day Germany. At age 16, one is legally allowed to drink beer, wine, and party at the clubs, AKA discos, until 12AM unless they have a multipass with them signed by their parents/guardian and an adult who is with them at the disco.  
> I felt inspired while listening to the top House Mix and Electro hits from the Tomorrowland music radio. If you like this type of music, I suggest you get yourself to Youtube and take a listen because they've got some of the best mixes to get you into the groove.  
> So enjoy. Hope it's not too terrible.

_Oh, hell no. Oh, hell **yes**._

It all started with a little so-called “crush” I have for a freckled dude in the Q1, the eleventh grade. You see, I’m a huge sucker for guys who are so freckled they look like walking chocolate chip cookies. This guy is _definitely_ a living, breathing double-chunk chocolate chip cookie. Ugh, no, this dude is fucking gorgeous in my opinion. Which is weird because I usually never say that about other guys, ever. He’s exactly what would pique more than just a bit of my curiosity.

I first noticed him back in March, which was around two and a half months after winter vacation. I’ve never seen him any time before then. He was standing in the hall, talking it up with his friends. His laugh is the loudest out of all of his buddies, I swear. I can probably hear him from the other side of the break hall if someone makes him laugh hard enough, and that’s really not difficult at all to achieve. Ever since then, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of him every time he’s in the room. Thank God I don’t have any classes with him; I’d probably be failing because all my attention would be focused on him. 

Today, shortly two months after I’ve first set eyes on him, I briefly ask myself if I should approach him and, hopefully, befriend him someway, somehow. I know he’s got a girlfriend. No, he’s had two since I’ve watched him from afar. One really monotone, moody blonde with the iciest eyes I have ever seen and now a quirky brunette who’s always munching on her packed bread (one time I saw her bring a _potato_ to school) when she’s not making out with her boyfriend. I bet her kisses taste like yeast and Rama margarine. Sometimes I see them smooching on campus grounds right before she heads to class. He always gives this half-lidded kiss to her on the lips before she just tells him to go for it, regardless of who’s around them. Me, being the unprofessional stalker I am, am always somewhere nearby. I’m not proud for spying on the guy all the time, but it’s something I can’t help but do.

The bell rings then, and everyone files out of the classroom, leaving me to pack my things hurriedly. I barely have enough time to catch the bus back home. And _shit_ , I forgot to engage in conversation with him today. I’m such a double-dweeb, chickening out like that. Even unconsciously.

My phone suddenly vibrates in my back pocket and I pull it out, unlocking the screen. It’s a text from Eren. I’m surprised he actually would consider to text me. He and I aren’t the best of friends, but we’ve come to not hate each other’s guts to death, either. Before in the past it was much worse, especially with Mikasa, his adopted sister, being involved. But that’s a story for another time. Right now, I’m reading his message on Whatsapp:

**Hallihallo, jean, u wanna come 2 reiners thing tonite? Starts at 10 btw. Oh yah n bring that multipass paper that you print online or what not and hav ur parents sign it cuz no ones gonna go home early at 12 unless theyre a pussy.**

I make a face at Eren’s greeting of “hallihallo”. That’s not something you say to your frenemy, but whatever. Guess he’s just trying to ask me to come to rich-boy Reiner Braun’s party at the disco Himmerich tonight. How he rents out Himmerich, I have no idea; rich-boy privileges. Anyway, everyone gets wasted at Reiner’s parties, and no one wants to go home at exactly 12, because that’s when all the fun really starts to happen. It’s a Friday. I have nothing to do, and my mom’s got nothing against it as long as I say Eren’s gonna be with me. Eren’s already eighteen, an adult, and my mother thinks he’s such a gem. I type back, along with some smileys:

**Ok yeah sure. Tellin my mom you’re gonna stick with me. She’s probs gonna drop me off at Himmi, though, so wait for me at the front or I’m gonna have to go through some real freak-out shit from her.**

Not even ten seconds later, I get his reply:

**Yah k. See ya.**

The evening came quickly as I took a short nap in the afternoon to recharge on some energy for all the dancing and drinking we’d be doing into the early hours of Saturday morning. After being forced to call the Jaeger household (Mom’s request, or I wasn’t allowed to go) and speaking with Eren and his mom, I get the multipass signed and a few two euro coins for the entrance fee. Yeah, even though Reiner rents the disco, everyone who comes has to pay in return. It’s not much though. Maybe something like four to six euros, depending on the approximate amount of people who’re going to show or whatnot.

I dress in something pretty similar to what I wear at school; I wriggle into my slimmest off-white skinny jeans with a fitted cut black tee. I slick up my hair with gel that smells like medicine, yet thankful that it wasn’t blue colored like the last time. The last time had been a disaster. My blond hair turned a pale blue until I washed off in the shower because I used too much. I’m into a fohawk type of hairstyle today, kind of like what FC Bayern’s Mario Mandzukic does with his hair.

“Jean-boy, are you ready?” I hear my mother call from downstairs. I heard her keys jingle. Oops. Time to go.

“Yeah, hold on.” I reply, grabbing my wallet, the plain front pinned with an array of tiny Sunrise Avenue button badges and slip it into my back pocket for now. I’d put into my jacket’s hidden breast pocket later. Fine, I like them too, okay? I listen to all kinds of music, but Samu’s voice is good. So what?

Trampling down the stairs, I make it without bursting the door to the kitchen and front breezeway open. I almost rip my hoodie jacket from its hanger while I swipe my Airwalks. I put both of them on simultaneously, placing my wallet in that pocket. I look at my mom, who just returned from the bathroom like she always does before we go somewhere.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

It’s time to party.

[----]

Eren is there in front of the disco and looks pretty preoccupied while talking to Armin, the kid with the really bad bobbed haircut. I step out of the car and wave to my mom, signalling that she can go. I _really_ don’t want people to see that my mom still drives me around everywhere. It’s embarrassing, and I won’t be able to get my license until I’m done with the school exit exams. It sucks; almost everyone else I know has or is in the process of getting their driver’s license.

“Yo, Jean.” Eren greets me, and smacks my back with his hand. I almost choke on my own spit.

“Yo,” I say back, then nod at Armin. “Hey,”

“Hi Jean.” He smiles and fidgets with the hem of his shirt, always a little nervous around people he doesn’t know well. In this case, me.

Eren signs the last spot on my multipass and we enter the disco without much of a problem. The fee’s exactly six euros, which I have enough small change for. I’ve got two twenties in my wallet, but that’ll be going to the several glasses of Hugo champagne, shots of Bailey’s and Chekov Vodka (thanks to Eren’s age) that I like to have so much. I’m not a huge beer fan to be honest, but I’ll drink it with any meal. It’s like flavored and carbonated water to my palate. Besides, the alcohol percentage is damn low compared to the stuff I can get here.

After slipping the money into my pants pocket, I leave my jacket with the people in charge of the coat hanging. Reiner’s a nice guy apparently; he doesn’t make his guests pay a fee for that. We hit the bar first, Eren ordering our first round of vodka.

“I’ll pay you back later,” I tell him over the music, accepting my shots. Eren shrugs, holding up his first shot glass. Armin and I do the same, then we’re knocking them down.

The cold liquid runs down my throat before a warm, burning sensation follows after. It feels exquisite and soon I finish my round of five shots. My core is beginning to feel warm. Armin looks pretty okay after his three, but the fifth seems a little forced when he downs it quickly. I’ve never seen him at a party before, but I’m guessing he’s a lightweight from his actions. 

“Don’t touch the drinks other people try and give you,” I tell Armin as a precaution. “You dunno if they’ve drugged it or not. And never pick your glass up again if you set it down without watching over it.” Armin promises he won’t.

Eren gives both of us a thumbs up and I reciprocate. I order a Hugo (Armin a Radler and Eren asks for a nasty Budweiser) and then we’re on the dancefloor, suddenly mingling with the others there.

I spot Mikasa there, already dancing to the music with some guy that looks like he’s about to try gyrating with Eren’s sister. I can only imagine what Eren might do to him. I try not to think about it too much and find Berthold and Reiner on the stairs in the back pumping their arms in the air to the music, beer bottles in hand. To the right, I spot my crush’s ex-girlfriend, her blond hair piled on the top of her head in a messy bun. She’s leaning back on the wall, watching everyone else with her pale eyes and bored gaze. Ymir’s near me, throwing out some pretty sick foot movements. Krista applauds, not really dancing, just watching her best friend groove. I sputter when I see my French teacher moving his hips to the beat with some blond that has the face of a model. What the hell is Ravaille doing here? Shouldn’t he be doing something like… I don’t know, grading papers or whatever teachers do? I remind myself to erase what I’ve just seen. It wouldn’t be the best idea to remember my teacher getting it on at Reiner’s party.

And then there _he_ was. He’s jumping up and down like they do in America, wearing a pair of Aviators that make him look like a dork. Actually, he looks adorable like that. Maybe it’s the alcohol in my system, but I suddenly don’t feel nervous at all. The edge is taken off. It’s time to approach him, I think, and weave my way through the crowd of dancing classmates.

By the time I get close to him, he’s stopped jumping. His girlfriend his yelling at him over the music. I shouldn’t disturb them. He looks confused, holding out his hands and his back hunched over. His mouth moves rapidly, but I can’t get what he’s saying to her. His girlfriend smacks his hand down when he attempts to touch her shoulder. She shakes her head, brown hair now disheveled. She screams at him, and he looks apologetic, but before he can say anything else she stomps off.

She shoves past me, and I almost trip over my own feet. “Hey, watch it!” I cry out, not really meaning it. It happened so fast that I didn’t think about my reaction. Suddenly, I feel guilty for seeming like such an ass. I look over at _him_ again; maybe it wasn’t time to talk to the guy just yet. He looks totally… I have no clue. He looks like he’s about to run after her. Or punch someone. Or, or. Shit, I shouldn’t be here.

I practically sneak my way back to Eren, who is making some pretty weird dance movements with his hands while Armin’s raising his arms in the air and doing a series of foot stomps. Talk about dancing. I feel like dancing now, just letting myself go. I want to stop thinking, stop thinking about my crush, and just enjoy the adrenaline that I get everytime I dance. So I wink at Eren, who lets me into their circle, and begin to shift back and forth to get into the music. Soon, I could feel it, feel the beats in my heart and my stomach. I move my whole body, unaware of what I’m doing exactly; I can certainly feel people’s gazes on me, though.

Armin laughs swaying back and forth. We get a little closer, Eren too, and soon we’re bumping hips together more or less. Not gyrating like what Levi Ravaille is doing with some guys right now, but I’m pretty sure we didn’t look like tiny kids either. Eren hands me his beer and I take a swig, then give it back to him. It tastes funny, but I’m not complaining about it. I let my eyes slide shut. I’m completely lost in the music now. It makes me feel so free. My conscience isn’t pressured by worries anymore; I could totally get lost in this. The time melts, and so does everything else. I don’t have a care in the world. And then _something_ presses up behind me.

My eyes flick open, and I turn my head. _Oh. My. Sweet Lord._ That chocolate chip, one hell of a dude is right behind me grinding the fuck out of my ass. I gasp, not that he can hear me over the music anyway. He’s got his deep brown eyes fixed on me. I stare back as our bodies still dance. Yeah, okay, so he’s not just the only one there. There are people too. Eren’s there, Armin’s there, a whole bunch of girls I don’t know and some boy named Connie I met in the eighth grade is dancing along side us. _Still_. He’s right here. Right next to me. So close that I can feel his breath on my neck. My skin flares with hot, hot heat.

He is so much more gorgeous up close. Not only does Marco have freckles on his face, but also on his neck; I get the sudden urge to pull the hem of his shirt to see if he has more freckles underneath. But I shouldn’t be doing that. Oh no. Oh _no_ , Jean. You know that he just had a fight with his girlfriend. You don’t go and molest another girl’s man at a party _after_ they’ve just argued. Oh no.

Eren’s getting pretty cozy, too. I can smell the alcohol reeking from his pores. Maybe while I was so far in my own world dancing with Armin he snuck away and drank a few more bottles, because he was no longer holding a Budweiser but instead a glass of champagne. Suddenly I realize that I had put my glass down somewhere, and found it on the table near us. I finish it, then leave the glass there and go back to dancing.

It began to get real hot in our little dance circle. Eren is pressed up against Armin, Armin’s up against me, the girls are surrounding us, and the freckled boy’s all over my behind. Oh yeah, this couldn’t get any better… Okay, maybe it could when I could get tail my ass over to the restroom and get my crush to follow me. Then I could finally _talk(?)_ to him, if I was lucky.

Actually, what exactly did I want from him? Maybe his name? His number? Maybe steal a kiss or two from him while he wasn’t paying attention, then run out as quickly as I can and avoid him for the rest of the year? Hell, who really knows what’s going on in my head.

I’m getting shivers down my spine. I don’t know what’s up with me tonight. I can’t control myself; I’m pressing back on the chocolate chip dude, and grinding hard with Armin. And then I’m breaking away from Eren and the others with my hand latched onto my crush’s, leading us to the bathroom stalls that are, well, surprisingly clean. Like dude, I can’t stop myself from doing what I am. Everything’s on autopilot right now, even though I’ve only had five shots and a champagne. And now I’m there, in the bathroom that’s weirdly deserted. I back the guy up into the handicap stall and close the door on us, locking it. He looks at me wearily, but there’s no time for that.

“Dance with me,” I say. Internally, I’m screaming my head off. What am I doing? I swear my pupils are dilating right now. The music’s still loud enough in the bathroom to feel the bass in our chests.

He flashes this half-smile at me. “Are you drunk?” he asks. He reaches out and touches my shoulder. I bite my lower lip, feeling a groan in the back of my throat. Icy-hot surges from my shoulder, through my stomach and down to my groin. Crap. What the fuck is going on to me?

“N-no,” I shudder. Damn it, he’s just touching my shoulder and I’m becoming a horn dog. I hunch forward a bit. My knees are starting to feel really weak; I clutch at his hand. Bad idea. Every square inch of our contacting skin makes me burn, and I’m starting to slump to the tiled floor.

“Hey, hey, dude!” He’s concerned now and holds me up, but chooses to sit down on the ground with me and keep me steady. “You sure you’re okay?” I’m snuggling into his chest now. Mm, he’s so warm. He smells so good. “C’mon man. What in the world did you drink?”

“A sip from Eren’s ‘weiser,” I manage to breath out. My head’s so foggy that I’m starting to forget all the words I’ve learned in my entire life. “‘nd my Hugo champagne.”

“Eren, the blonde?” I shook my head. Nope, I’m pretty damn sure that’s Armin Arlert. “The brown-haired, green-eyed kid that was dancing near you?” I nod. “Shit, I gotta call him in here.”

“No, don’t go.” I rasp out. “Don’t go, uh,” I’m trying to search my brain for his name even though I don’t have it.

“Marco,” he tells me. And what a nice name that is. His looks fit his name. He’s totally a Marco. His parents did a good job naming him.

“Marco, don’t go. I need you.” I say, loving the way his name rolls off my tongue with ease. I’m clinging to his shirt now, practically giving him my best puppy-eyes look. He smiles at me and strokes my cheek.

“I’m going to get Eren over here. I’ll only be away for a minute at most.” Marco tries to reassure me.  
Another shiver crawls down my back and my face is on fire. To make it worse, I can feel my crotch becoming more and more alive as Marco caresses me. I reach over and cup his face, squashing his cheeks a bit, and bring in my face a little closer. I get onto my knees, putting our foreheads together. His smile fades as I look into his eyes. God, everything about him is like chocolate; his eyes are made out of the richest cocoa. I tilt my head and lean in. That’s when our lips meet and my whole world so much as explodes.

His lips are so soft, like marshmallows. I feel myself moan against them, licking at his bottom lip. I shove my tongue into his mouth, surprised yet glad he’s actually letting me. I try to lick everywhere, running my pink muscle along his smooth teeth, tasting what might have been a Radler. My tongue touches his, and at this point I’m grabbing his short, dark hair with both hands. He doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t do anything either.

I break the kiss, panting hard. “Marco,” My voice is almost a whisper. “I’ve been watching you for such a long time. You don’t even know,” I press up to him even more. “What don’t you understand? I said I _need_ you.” I wanna grind into him, just like he did to me on the dancefloor. 

A flash in his eyes, and then he’s kissing my cheek. He seems drunk; Marco’s movements aren’t quite as calculated and precise like he always is but I can’t say that I minded at all. “I know, goddamn.” he groans. “Maybe I’m drugged, too. Or drunk. What the hell. Fine. But you’re addicting right now,” He kisses me this time on my lips. “Oh my God, man. I know, you’ve been looking at me since I came back from my trip in Berlin.” Then his lips are back on mine again, and we’re officially making out.

Oh my God, I’m so fucking messed up right now. How is this reality? He’s actually kissing me right now, fucking my mouth with his tongue. I can’t think; I’m taking one hand out of Marco’s hair to palm at the swell in my pants. 

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” I question him after he pulls away. He doesn’t answer. He’s too busy sucking at my neck; I reason he’s still hurt by his and his girlfriend’s little fight. My eyes practically roll back into my sockets. My mouth is hanging open now. His teeth scrape at my collarbone as he makes his way down. Sure, I’ll be his comfort object for tonight. He doesn’t know how happy I am right now. I know nothing about him in actuality and here we are, on the bathroom floor of a disco doing things I’ve only ever thought of in my fantasies.

“Ach,” I groan when he scratches his blunt nails down my tightly-fitted shirt. I take one of his hands in mine and guide it to the end of my shirt. He gets the idea, lifting it only to lick a trail to my pectorals. He pinches my left nipple, biting at the other. I throw my head back, groaning louder than expected. His free hand slides over my abdomen, fingers running along the little line of dark blond hair from my navel down into my jeans. I take my hand away from my crotch, letting Marco unbutton my pants. He’s so gentle with his caresses to my still covered dick that I buck up into his touch. I can practically hear him smirk at my reaction.

He’s rubbing at me, and I’m getting impatient. I want to get to the real deal; I reach for my boxers and pull them down over my junk, freeing it from the annoying fabric.

“Can’t wait,” I mutter, “Marco...”

“I know.” He grins then, stroking at my sensitive organ. I bite back a moan. He grabs my thing, stroking it with more force this time. I let out my voice, barely being able to breath correctly. He works his fingers up and down my length with such skill.  
“Kiss me again,” I demand. My wish is fulfilled; Marco’s open-mouth kissing me and I’m doing the same. Shit, I feel so good. _He’s_ making me feel so good. Our saliva is mixed together, and I find it the hottest thing ever. He’s stroking me, we’re both making out, and I’m feeling up his body. Everything is just so _amazing_.

We pause our kissing just enough for me to pull off his shirt. Damn, hell yes. I was right: he _does_ have freckles all over his body. He’s a fucking chocolate chip cookie. A chocolate chip cookie that I’m so willing to eat up right now.

“Ach, Marco,” I sigh. I settle over to straddle him, climbing onto his lap with the minimal strength I had in my legs. I brushed my cock deliberately against his clothed one. My pride swells when I heard his breath hitch. “More, take it off.”

He undoes his fly and releases his own girth into the open air, practically hissing. The next thing we’re doing is aligning our erections together, moans echoing each other as he and I pleasure each other. I want to hump him so bad. He wraps his hand around both of us pulling upward and back down, building rhythm. I’m back to nibbling on his lips, feeling up his arms now. He’s so sexy, I think. So, so worth my everything. I don’t ever want this to end. Never. Ever.

“Ugh,” he moans into my ear and I nearly lose it. “Tell me your name.”

I squeak pathetically as he runs his fingers up the underside of my cock. “Jean. Jean Kirstein.”

“Ohh, Jean,” He’s making me go crazy with desire. “Let’s finish us off.” Marco says, gritting his teeth now. “Put your hand over mine,”

I do just as he requested, stroking both of us and picking up the pace of Marco’s hand. He squeezes his hand around us; I make a choking sound. The tip of his erection is so bulbous that it teases the right spot on mine.

“Faster,” I’m begging. “Please, Marco, faster.” I’m not going to last much longer.

“Stamina, Jean.” he grinds out. I whine, digging my nails into his arm with the hand that’s still touching his biceps. “Fuck it, I’m gonna come,” he admits, speeding up his hand.

I’m almost crying, the pleasure racking my brain. My moans come out unchecked; it’s way too late to care if anyone is listening to us. All I can hear is the slick sound of Marco jacking us off, and my moans intermingled with Marco’s own husky groans.

Marco squeezes hard. That’s it. I’m done for. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel; my whole vision goes white as I climax. I jolt, close to convulsing. My breathing stops as I’m suspended in what seems like an eternity in the pleasure of coming. When I come down from my high, Marco’s already spurted onto both of us and our hands. He’s panting, looking up into my eyes. I kiss him once more; it’s a short, quick and sweet one. One that says ‘I like you’, but I’m not sure if Marco gets the message.

“I like you,” I confess. “Marco, I like you a lot. I don’t care if this is the only time I’ll talk to you. I’m okay if I’m just a one night stand to you. I’ll never forget this.” I’m fucking babbling like an idiot.

His face becomes dark. “I know. Sasha made me mad, and I took it out by having sex with you while I’m still tipsy. I’m sorry, Jean. I like you, too.. but… I’m not sure if we’ll ever do this again. I love her too much to leave her.” Those last words feel like daggers through my heart, but I knew it was bound to be said. Marco has a girlfriend; he’s not into guys like me. “Sorry, Jean. I’m sorry. It hurts me so much to say I can’t be with you.”

I shook my head. “I understand.” The feeling of sadness overcomes my everlasting libido from the effect of whatever I drank before. Damn my rules. I told Armin not to take a drink he’s set down for a minute yet I still drank from my champagne that was on the table. I’m such a hypocrite.. And now I realize why I feel so hot. That fucking champagne I drank while dancing. Shit. I’ve been drugged.

Marco lifts my chin with his warm fingers and kisses me gently before we get up from the floor and clean up. I’m still leaning against the wall, trying to calm myself down. Somehow, I find the strength to get my legs working again. After this, I was so going home. We made it back onto the dancefloor and waved each other goodbye. He looks like he’s about to cry. About to punch someone, or about to come back to my and hold me in his arms and kiss me ‘til I’m telling him I love him. Instead, we’re parting ways. I fight back my swelling emotions and find Eren and Armin lounging on a couch, Armin looking pretty wasted. We decide to leave. Eren flags down a taxi in front of the disco and generously lets me pay for the part of my ride home.

It’s a quarter past three when I make it up the stairs to my bedroom. I tumble into my bed, too tired to change clothes, and cry my eyes out. My phone buzzes at half before four. I whimper, wiping at my tears. It’s an SMS from a number I don’t recognize.

I snuggle into my sheets. A smile on my face settles onto my face as I drift off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks!


End file.
